


The Hunting

by Fictionwriter



Series: Night Magic [1]
Category: Lewis (TV), Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Community: lewis_challenge, Crossover, Lewis Secret Santa 2013, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-15
Updated: 2014-01-15
Packaged: 2018-01-08 20:11:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1136871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fictionwriter/pseuds/Fictionwriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It began for Robert Lewis eight years ago, when his wife died</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hunting

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pushkin666](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pushkin666/gifts).



> This was written for the [Lewis_Challenge](http://lewis-challenge.livejournal.com/) Secret Santa.
> 
> [Pushkin666](http://archiveofourown.org/users/pushkin666/pseuds/pushkin666) mentioned she likes supernatural AU’s, so I took her at her word. 
> 
> Thanks, as always, to [Moth2fic](http://archiveofourown.org/users/moth2fic/pseuds/moth2fic) for the beta

 

It began for Robert Lewis eight years ago, when his wife died.  
  
Until then he had lived in a normal world full of ordinary people going about their ordinary everyday lives. He dealt with the criminals of that world; the cheaters, the killers, anyone who broke the law. People are only human after all, slaves to their own desires and needs, and there are those who take what they want regardless of law or order. Robbie never judged, that was the job of the twelve men or women good and true. His job was to bring those criminals to account for their actions. And that’s exactly what he did.  
  
He was very good at his job.  
  
But the world changed that day as something dark and sinister slipped into Robert Lewis’ life and took what was precious away from him. And under the pounding grief came the understanding nothing was ever going to be normal or ordinary or simple again – he had entered a brand new world, one full of horrors he could never have imagined.  
  
____________  
  
Jean Innocent was waiting for them in her office; a picture of relaxation as she leant back in the large office chair, her face as guileless as her name suggested.  
  
Robbie wasn’t deceived.  
  
“I see you’ve finally managed to get here,” she said, eyebrow quirking a little as they sauntered through the doorway.  
  
“It took us longer than expected to find the nest.” James Hathaway answered for them both. Hunched slightly with his hands in his pockets, he stood by Robbie’s shoulder. They were dressed the same; black jumpers blending into black trousers, even their shoes were dark coloured trainers. If they were both looking a little more ruffled than usual no one seemed to want to comment on it.  
  
Innocent’s gaze shifted to the window where twilight was edging into the dark promise of night. “Cut it a little fine, didn’t you?”  
  
Robbie shrugged. “It was a small nest. Just four of them and their watcher.”  
  
“Yes, well. I’d rather the two of you didn’t take any unnecessary chances. I wouldn’t want to lose my best team through carelessness.”  
  
“Never careless, ma’am,” Robbie told her. James fidgeted beside him. He was always edgy after an operation and this one hadn’t been as casually easy as they implied. The watcher had come far too close to completely waking his charges before he and James could properly neutralise them. Vampires were always tricky bastards, cantankerous too when you woke them from their slumber.  
  
Innocent gave him a searching look, her gaze sliding over the blotchy fetid stains he knew stood out even against the black of his jumper. But she didn’t pursue the matter. Just wrinkled her nose a little bit.  
  
“Be that as it may,” she said. “There is something I need to speak to both of you about." She stood up and came around her desk, relaxing back against it. “I’ve had a rather interesting visit from two of our friends from across the pond.”  
  
Robbie looked at her sharply, all attention now. “What? American hunters?”  
  
Innocent nodded. “Yes, hunters.” She paused as if tasting the word and finding it orally deficient. Guardians always seemed a much more aesthetically pleasing nomenclature than hunters. “The Winchester brothers. They arrived today and wasted no time requesting some assistance in finding an object, a talisman, apparently hidden somewhere here in Oxford.”  
  
“That is interesting,” Robbie agreed. Cooperation between British guardians and American hunters wasn’t exactly unknown, but it wasn’t all that common either. “Have they explained the significance of this talisman and why they’re looking for it?”  
  
 “Not entirely, and therein lies the problem.” Innocent clearly wasn’t happy.  
  
“What exactly have they said?” Robbie asked.  
  
“Rather a lot and revealed very little.” The frown lines on Innocent’s forehead deepened. “So little in fact it’s virtually nothing once you get beyond all the flannel. And that worries me,” she admitted. “But in the interests of Anglo-American relations I’ve agreed to give them any assistance they require. They did ask specifically for you two, which is why I’m assigning you as liaison.”  
  
“Babysitting is hardly what we’d be best employed at.” James said, his voice tart. He was still tightly wound; Robbie could almost feel the tension vibrating from him.  
  
Innocent shot him a look and James flushed. “I’ll tell you what capacity you will function in within this organisation, Hathaway,” she said, iron in her voice.  
  
James’ mumbled, “Yes, ma’am.” was almost indistinct but there. He slouched a bit further and looked to the side, avoiding both Innocent’s gaze and Robbie’s look of concern.  
  
“As I was saying,” Innocent continued, turning her attention back to Robbie after a last quelling glance at Hathaway. “They wanted you and they’ve got you. Just bear in mind I don’t want either of them dashing around Oxford unaccompanied so keep an eye on them.”  
  
“We’ll do our best, ma’am,” Robbie assured her.  
  
“Good,” Innocent said. “I’ve told them you will contact them tomorrow. Gurdip has all the details.”  
  
Sensing dismissal James headed to the door and Robbie followed, only to be arrested by Innocent speaking again.  
  
“Robbie, could I have a word please, alone.”  
  
James turned back to look at him and Robbie shrugged.  
  
“I’ll just start writing out our report,” James volunteered, leaving the office before Robbie could react.  
  
Innocent came straight to the point. “Is James all right?” she said, looking at Robbie with a mixture of exasperation and what Robbie thought might be motherly concern if you considered Innocent either had motherly instincts or would bring them into the workplace.  
  
“What do you …” Robbie started, but Innocent didn’t let him continue, lifting a hand to forestall him mid-sentence.  
  
“Robbie, don’t be obtuse, it doesn’t suit you,” she snapped, frustration taking over the exasperation. “I’m not the only one who has noticed that James has been more than a little tense lately.”  
  
Robbie shot back. “Hardly surprising considering what we do, is it? ma’am.” But had to duck his head at the steady look Innocent gave him.  
  
“Yes, okay. He’s been on edge,” he admitted. “So have I. So has everyone. It’s nothing he can’t handle.”  
  
“Are you sure? Sometimes a background in theology is more of a hindrance than a help for those in the field.” Innocent sighed and folded her arms, regarding Robbie with a disconcerting intentness. “It’s been two years since he joined us and he still doesn’t seem settled. Perhaps he’s just not suited to field work. He might be better off in research or policy and planning. His instincts for finding the seemingly unfindable verge almost on the psychic at times, his prescience is remarkable.”  
  
Robbie’ heart lurched at the prospect of losing James. He wasn’t prepared for that. Didn’t want it. But did that give him the right to hang on to him at all costs and at James’ expense?  
  
No one knew about guardians or what they did; not the public, the police or any government ministry. The only recruits were those personally affected by the evil that lurked on the outer fringes of humanity. James had faced such evil; it had shaken apart the very core of his being and soured his beliefs. Robbie knew he was still trying to put those pieces back together again and was at a loss as to how to help him.  
  
It seemed Innocent could read minds, or maybe she just knew him too well, because she looked at Robbie with some sympathy. “I know you care about him, Robbie. Perhaps too much. But this has to be about what’s best for James, what his needs are, not yours. You’ve become his anchor, his lifeline perhaps. But that might not be the right thing for him.”  
  
He tried not to think too much about what James might need and what he could give him; how much of himself he felt he had left to give, or what James was willing to take from him.  
  
“Give him some time, ma’am. Some space to get his head around it all,” he said. “It’s still early days yet. And those instincts of his are just as valuable out there in the field, you know.”  
  
Innocent sighed. “I hope you’re right,” she said. “We’ll leave things as they are for now, but keep in mind what I’ve said. This isn’t the kind of job where you can afford distraction or hesitation and I’d hate to have to pick up the pieces.” She sat down again and waved a hand at him. “Now go home. You’ve both had enough for one evening I think.”  
  
“Aye, that we have.” Robbie agreed.  
  
“Oh and, Robbie,” she said before he could leave. “Be careful around these Winchester boys. I have a feeling about them. Just, watch your back.”  
  
“Yes, ma’am,” Robbie said, closing the door gently behind him.  
  
He found James at his desk in their office, diligently typing, fingers flying over the keys. He leaned in the doorway watching him for a full two minutes. If James had noticed his presence he didn’t let on, eyes firmly remaining on the computer screen, face scrunched in concentration, the only sound in the office the persistent tap tap tap from the keyboard.  
  
“Are you all right?” he asked finally, breaking the silence that had begun to bother him.  
  
James broke off the typing to finally look up at him, his expression unreadable. “Yes, I’m fine. Why shouldn’t I be?” he said, in a tone of perfect reasonableness. “You’ve got blood on your neck by the way, it matches that mess on your jumper.”  
  
Robbie lifted his hand to his neck, scratching at what he found there. His fingers came away sticky with partly dried blood, there were specks of it under his nails too.  
  
“Damn,” he said. “Thought I’d cleaned it all off.”  
  
James had turned back to his computer with a studied disinterest in Robbie or his neck.  
  
Robbie tried again. “We’ve been given the night off.”  
  
James lifted his gaze from the computer screen enough for a brisk nod but otherwise continued what he was doing.  
  
“Let me give you a hand with that and then we can get going,” Robbie said, moving to his desk.  
  
“That’s not necessary, sir.” James forestalled him, slipping back into the old habit of subservience Robbie thought he’d managed to drum out of him months ago. “In fact, given your typing speed, I’d rather you didn’t, I’d like to get it finished tonight if I could.” Maybe not so much subservience after all.  
  
Robbie gave up. “Right, I’ll just be off then. See you in the morning?”  
  
James gifted him with another nod, one of dismissal this time, then turned his concentration back to his typing.  
  
Robbie shrugged and left. He had a feeling he’d just lost the round without even being aware they were in the middle of an argument.  
  
  
____________  
  
  
The Winchesters looked American; healthy, clean cut and rather brash, their energetic presence more than a little out of place in the staid and genteel atmosphere of  the  seventeenth century building guardians used as a headquarters. At least that applied to the older brother. The younger one had a demeanour quieter than that of his brother, perhaps more thoughtful. The expression ‘hidden depths’ came to Robbie’s mind.  
  
Acting on Gurdip’s advice Robbie and James found them in the library the next morning. They had set themselves up at the long centre table, books both ancient and modern spread out on half its length. One seemed to be doing most of the reading, while the other was rifling through the books and checking indexes.  
  
“Some library you’ve got here,” the one doing the rifling remarked as they walked in.  
  
“It’s not quite the Bodleian, but it’s not bad,” agreed James with some degree of pride. “Of course most of the books here you wouldn’t find in the Bodleian anyway.”  
  
Robbie took pity on his confused look. “James is referring to the Oxford University library,” he told him. “I’m Robbie Lewis by the way. And this is James Hathaway. Our boss said you could do with some help.”  
  
“Ah, yes. I’m Dean. This is Sam.” He waved a hand at the book reader. “We’ve very grateful to Ms Innocent for allowing us access to, um, not quite the … Bodleian.” Dean stumbled a little over the word but managed a passible stab at it. “And your services.” He didn’t look all that grateful really, more put out that they’d been interrupted. He smiled though, with a disarming charm which made Robbie wonder if he’d imagined the slight hint of malice.  
  
“What is it exactly you’ve looking for?” James asked. “I might be able to help.”  
  
Sam glanced up from the book he’d been studying and gave them both a calculating look, but as with Dean, his features quickly coalesced into a smile.  
  
“Yeah, thanks, James. I think we could do with some help, I’m getting nowhere here,” he shut the book and settled back in his chair. “A year ago we broke up a coven of witches near Salem … in Massachusetts,” he added, just in case they didn’t know where Salem was. “One of them had a talisman, or rather, half a talisman. We’re looking for the other half.”  
  
Dean picked up the next part of their story. “The talisman belonged to a witch, Alice Grimes. Alice was executed here in Oxford during the witch hunts, around the 1620’s. The talisman was broken into two parts after Alice’s death. Her daughter hid one part of it in her mother’s grave before she hitched a ride with the pilgrims to the American colonies. The other part has been passed down from daughter to daughter.”  
  
“How do you know all this?” Robbie asked.  
  
“The witch told us, before she died. Unfortunately she didn’t tell us enough.” The complete lack of expression in Sam’s voice and the blankness in his eyes sent a chill up Robbie’ spine. He didn’t need a diagram to work out what the brother’s method of persuasion would have been to gain the information they had.  
  
“So,” Sam continued. “We need to find Alice’s grave. But neither she nor her gravesite appear to be mentioned anywhere in your historical records.”  
  
“Hardly surprising,” James said, after a slight pause that made Robbie wonder if he’d sensed something from the brothers too. “Not all witch trials and executions of the time were officially recorded. And witches weren’t buried in consecrated ground so there would be no church records of her burial, not that there are a lot of church records for the time anyway.”  
  
“In other words, we’re looking for a non-existent needle in a non-existent haystack.” Dean sounded deflated.  
  
“Not necessarily,” James countered. “There were unofficial records, the ones kept by the precursors of guardians. We just have to find them.” He started towards the library index.  
  
Robbie slipped his jacket off and draped it over one of the hard backed chairs.  
  
“I’ll get the coffee, shall I?” he queried, and received smiles of gratitude from the brothers and a grin from James.  
  
____________  
  
  
“How long have you been doing this, Robbie?” Dean asked switching his gaze from James and Sam waiting for service at the bar to Robbie sitting opposite him.  
  
The pub was dim, the groundswell of cheers and groans from patrons watching Match of the Day enough to keep their conversation private. Introducing the Americans to a pint had seemed a courteous gesture after a day of fruitless searching in the library. And a good way of obeying Innocent’s instructions to keep an eye on them.  
  
“Killing demons, vampires and other assorted creatures?” Robbie queried with a grin. “About eight years.”  
  
“How’d you get into it?”  
  
Robbie shrugged. It had been so long now and although the horror and pain never faded it had become more bearable over time.  
  
“I ‘got into it’ when a vampire tore my wife apart,” he said, keeping the emotion out of his voice. “I was a copper then. Detective Inspector. Didn’t believe in vampires or ghosts or anything else until I tracked down the bastard who killed her and saw the evidence with me own eyes.”  
  
Dean winced. “Sorry,’ he said. “We’ve lost people as well. Too many. It never gets any better. You just keep on losing them, one way or another.” There was a sad melancholy there, before he too quickly shook the mood off and turned polite interest back to Robbie.    
  
“So you became a guardian?”  
  
“Yeah.” Robbie let the pain slide away under the influence of Dean’s own obvious hurt. “Didn’t seem right to go on catching the villains out there after that, when the scarier ones were hiding in plain sight, only no one ever saw them until it was too late.”  
  
Dean nodded his understanding.  “What about James? Why did he leave the priesthood and start chasing demons?”  
  
“Ah, you’ll have to ask him that. And when he tells you, you can let me know the answer.”  
  
“Close-mouthed is he?”  
  
“Sometimes,” Robbie said. Even after two years of working together James had still not confided in him, told him the details of the catastrophic event that had driven him from his vocation to being a guardian. “How did you get involved in all this?” he asked, as curious about the brothers as Dean seemed to be about them.  
  
“Runs in the family,” Dean told him with a casual indifference that didn’t quite reach his eyes.  “Our father was a hunter, so was our grandfather.”  
  
Robbie winced, wondering at such a childhood and how it must have affected them. But before he could comment Sam and James arrived with the drinks and the conversation steered in other directions.  
  
The Winchesters were surprisingly good company; genial and amusing in the way that a lot of Americans were and with an ability to put everyone at ease by turning on their not inconsiderable charm. Dean did most of the talking, but Sam joined in with a quiet humour of his own. There was something about the younger Winchester though that Robbie couldn’t quite put his finger on. Something beyond the moment in the library when he’d spoken so casually about what would have amounted to torture and murder. It made him feel vaguely uncomfortable. But moments later, when Sam laughed with uninhibited good humour at what James was saying, he had to put it down to his imagination.  
  
It wasn’t until long afterwards he wondered how it was Dean knew James had studied in the priesthood.  
  
____________  
  
  
Robbie watched as James picked over the remnants of the pizza then scooped up a last crumb of cheesy crust, sliding it into his mouth then licking his fingers.  
  
“Do you think we’re going to find Alice’s grave and this talisman they’re looking for,” he said, more to distract himself from the way James was sucking on his index finger than any doubt about his partner’s ability to find that needle in the haystack.  
  
They were sitting side by side on the couch, easy in each other’s space. With the Winchesters safely delivered to their Holiday Inn accommodation, pleasantly oiled with British pints and a promise of an early start again the next day, they’d picked up a late supper and come back to Robbie’ place. Something they did so regularly that Robbie had become used to the lanky presence of his partner in his flat.  
  
 “Yeah.” James gave a last suck then flipped open the notebook he’d left on the table while they ate. “The references to witch executions of the time are obscure, those who recorded demonic activity had to be careful, they could so easily be accused of witchcraft themselves. But they’re there if you dig deep enough.”  
  
James was as relaxed as Robbie seen him for weeks, the tense hunch of shoulders that had become commonplace lately all but gone. The strange mood from the night before had disappeared too, leaving them back in their old easy familiarity. The day of working in the library had done him good. Perhaps Innocent was right and James belonged in research and not the field. He pushed the thought away.  
  
“I’ve had a bit of an odd feeling about our two American friends,” he said, sifting through the events of the day; trying to sort out his thoughts, work out why he felt a twitch around the two brothers that he couldn’t identify. “Just can’t put me finger on anything in particular.”  
  
James considered that for a moment then huffed out a breath. “Thought it was just me.” He acknowledged, looking thoughtful. “One thing that is peculiar. I’ve found no mention at all of a witch’s talisman in the research. If there was something you’d think there would be some mention of it either in the accounts or some of the foretelling of that time.  
  
“And our friends haven’t told us why they’re looking for it either, or its significance. Innocent was right, they talk a lot but say hardly anything.”  
  
“They are rather disarming when they put their minds to it,” James agreed. “Do you think it’s something we have to worry about?”  
  
“Are you worried?” Robbie asked. He trusted James’ instincts implicitly; the lad had saved their skins on more than one occasion because of them.  
  
James pondered. “I don’t know,” he said. “We’re all on the same side after all. There has to be a certain amount of trust involved.”  
  
“Well, let’s just keep our wits about us,” Robbie suggested, content to leave it at that for now.  
  
James nodded and Robbie watched him turn his attention back to his notes, brow furrowed in concentration, the overhead light bringing glints to the blond hair.  
  
“You like this, don’t you. Doing research, working on the old manuscripts and interpretations,” he added when James looked at him, a question in his eyes.  
  
“It has its moments,” he said, the question still there.  
  
Robbie shifted uncomfortably, not sure how to pursue this conversation or if he wanted to. Some things were better left unsaid.  
  
“You nearly got killed yesterday,” James continued when Robbie didn’t speak.  
  
“What?” Robbie blinked at the segue, wondering where James was heading in the conversation.  
  
“The vampires. The last one. He was awake by the time you got to him. I thought I was too late, that he’d managed to bite you.” There was a brittle edge to his voice that matched the sudden tensing of his shoulders again.  
  
“But he didn’t, you saved me from that.” The shock of memory at how close it had been; the nightmarish snap of teeth and hot breath on his throat, until James took the vampire’s head off with the broadsword he always carried on their operations, twisted a thread of fear through Robbie’ gut.  
  
“Yes, I did, didn’t I,” James said, tension draining slightly as his mouth tilted into that half smile of his. “Which is why I’m better in the field with you rather than stuck in a library doing research.”  
  
Robbie laughed, letting the amusement at his partner’s perfect logic come out. “I can’t argue with that,” he said, and he didn’t want to.  
  
“Yes, I’m exactly where I belong, sir,” James told him. There it was again, the same subservience of the previous night. Then he realised the sod was teasing him.  
  
“Away with you,” he said. “But we don’t half make a good team out there.”  
  
James’ half smile broadened and Robbie let himself relax into the charm of it.  
  
“I suppose you’re the brains are you?” he asked. He was looking at Robbie intently, as if waiting for something and Robbie opened his mouth, ready to tease back, but then realised that what he wanted to say was something quite different from a tease. But he hesitated and the moment broke, leaving him with nothing to say.  
  
 “Yes, well. I suppose I’d best get on home.” James rose to collect his coat and started towards the front door. “Pick you up in the morning shall I?” he asked.  
  
Robbie fumbled his way to his feet knowing he’d missed something important here. “Yeah, in the morning. Fine,” he mumbled, helping James with the door locks.  
   
James hesitated on the front step. He seemed about to lean forward, to tell Robbie something. But he just shook his head and turned away. “Goodnight, Robbie,” he said gently and was gone.  
  
Robbie lent back against the closed door and wondered why he couldn’t just say the things he wanted to say, take a risk for a change and hope for the result he wanted. A sigh escaped him and he cursed himself for being all kinds of an idiot and a tongue-tied fool.  
  
____________  
  
  
 _In the church yard of St Giles there lies beneath the grave of Josiah Morgan, a merchant of Oxford,  the body of the witch, Alice Grimes, secreted there in foul manner by her daughter, Jascinta, who laid upon it a curse to those who would disturb the resting place’_  
  
  
James looked up, a slow smile spreading on his lips, his eyes shining. Robbie felt his mouth lift in response. “You’ve found it!” he said.  
  
“I have.” James confirmed, carefully smoothing the ancient parchment beneath glove-encased palms.  
  
They crowded around him; Robbie by his side, the Winchesters looking over his shoulders, lips moving as they read the words to themselves, making sense of their meaning.  
  
“The daughter must have excavated the grave of this Josiah Morgan and buried her mother underneath his coffin,” James told them.  
  
“So, all we have to do is find his grave, dig Josiah up, and we should find Alice.” Dean said, sharing a look of satisfaction with Sam.  
  
Robbie let out a huff of laughter. “It might not be as simple as that,” he warned. “St Giles’ is still in use, but finding the grave itself won’t be easy. Most of the inscriptions from that time will have worn away.”  
  
“We’ll find it, now we know where to look.” The certainty in Sam’s voice made Robbie glance sharply at him. But Sam was concentrating on Dean and the look they were sharing was one of such intimate and silent communication it made him look away.  
  
James didn’t notice. He was still concentrating on the book in front of him. “It might not be too difficult really,” he said. “The graves from that era are all in one section of the graveyard and a lot of the inscriptions are still fairly legible.”  
  
Robbie didn’t bother asking him how he knew that and the brothers didn’t seem interested either.  
  
“Tonight then. After dark, when the tourists and parishioners are all gone. I’ll organise shovels,” he said as an afterthought.  
  
There was another silent communication between the brothers and for a moment Robbie thought they were going to refuse their company but after a slight hesitation Dean nodded and patted James on the back. “Yeah, tonight. Good work, James.”  
  
Sam echoed the praise but Robbie couldn’t help but wonder how genuine his smile was.  
  
____________  
  
  
“I feel like Burke and Hare,” Robbie muttered, hefting the shovel over his shoulder.  
  
“They didn’t really deal in the already-dead,” James murmured back. “Whereas we …”  
  
“Are going to be digging up a pair of very old, very dead corpses,” Robbie finished for him.  
  
James grinned  
  
While the past week had been almost Indian summer Robbie could feel the bite of winter in the breeze that whispered across the church grounds. It caught in his throat and ruffled cold fingers in his hair as they hurried towards the deserted cemetery.  
  
They were weaving a course through the trees, guided by the ambient light from streetlamps and the flash of headlights from an occasionally passing car, the Norman church of the graveyard a commanding silhouette against the darkened night sky. Sam and Dean were ahead, carrying torches and making their way quickly to the area James had pointed out as the section that contained most of the seventeenth century graves.  
   
“Looks like they found something.” James picked up the pace, heading towards where Dean had dropped down to his knees and was brushing away at an ancient tilted headstone. Sam was watching him, leaning slightly forward over his shoulder.  
  
“That was quick,” Robbie commented. Maybe too quick he thought as he followed behind, James’ long legs outpacing him in seconds.  
  
Sam looked at them as they arrived. “This is it,” he said, pointing to the headstone, his other hand was at his neck in an odd gesture Robbie couldn’t quite place. “Told you it wouldn’t be difficult.” The light from a fitful moon shone in his eyes for a moment, making them glint as if with a light of their own. Robbie shivered, the cold seemed to be seeping through his clothes and into his bones.  
  
Sam was right, Robbie could make out the name on the headstone, it was Josiah’s. He didn’t bother trying to decipher the rest of the writing. Dean hadn’t said anything, he was already using a shovel to dig at the grave.  
  
James dropped the backpack he’d been carrying and holding out his hand for Robbie’s shovel began to dig as well. After that they took turns to dig by the light of torches held by the other two, the only sounds disturbing the night air their harsh breaths, the thump of metal striking the ground and the patter of falling dirt. Robbie felt a certain gratitude that the churchyard was deserted. He didn’t think Innocent would be impressed if they were arrested for grave robbing.  
  
It didn’t take them long to uncover the old wooden coffin, mildewed and rotting - or what was left of it. Most of the sides and sections of the top had broken away and lay in pieces in the dirt, along with white bone and tattered cloth. More bone was visible inside the remnants of the coffin.  
  
“The rest will break up when we try and lift it,” James said. “We should have guardian experts here to excavate properly, collect the bones for reburial.”  
  
“No,” Sam snapped, causing James to take a step backwards at the cold fury that flashed across his face. “No one else can be here.”  
  
Robbie reached out a hand to steady James, but before he could further react Sam’s expression had turned to one of calm sincerity.  
  
“We’ve gone this far, we can’t stop now and wait for experts,” he said, holding his hands up in apology. “There’s no time”  
  
He was right, Robbie knew it. As much as he disliked further desecrating an innocent’s bones they had no time now to wait, the dark wouldn’t last forever, nor would their presence continue to go unnoticed.  
  
“Yes, all right,” he said reluctantly, Sam’s changing persona was sending all kinds of worrying signals through him. “We can always come back for a proper reburial. Right now we’d better get to the rest of it.” James gave an unhappy nod as they set to the task.  
  
Finally the remaining intact sections of the coffin and all the scattered bones they could find lay on the tarpaulin James had retrieved from his pack and that Robbie was dragging away from the grave. The Winchesters had been more anxious to dig further for the witch than worry over Josiah’s pathetic remains but James had insisted and Robbie agreed, forcing them to concede the point.  
  
Dean started to dig again as soon as they were finished, Sam watching intently, his hand again at his throat and Robbie realised he was clutching onto something hanging from a chain around his neck.  
  
“It’s there, I can feel it stronger now.”  
  
Sam’s words sent a chill down Robbie’s spine. Something was wrong here, very wrong. the warning signs had been there before but he’d not seen them for what they were. He couldn’t ignore them any longer.  
  
He looked across at James, standing too close to Sam for Robbie’s comfort. James had a puzzled look on his face, as if something was coming together in his mind that he didn’t like.  
  
Robbie took a step forward, towards the trio at the head of the grave, just as Dean gave out a shout of triumph. He craned forward to see what it was, what Dean had uncovered, and caught a glimpse of white skull and bone gleaming in the moonlight. But it was the light coming from the object set between the arched ribcage underneath that drew his attention, that and the harmonic resonance ringing from it, both light and sound answered by the pendant on the chain Sam pulled from inside his shirt.  
  
Then everything seemed to happen at once.  
  
Dean thrust his hand into the ribcage and grasped the glowing object, holding it up for Sam to take. The piercing harmonics from the two objects increased tenfold as they came into contact and Robbie clasped his hands over his ears, fearing his eardrums might burst. Then the pieces were together, forming one whole surrounded by brilliant light that reflected in Sam’s eyes. He looked again, and realised it wasn’t reflected light in Sam’s eyes but that they glowed with a strange silver light of their own, the hazel irises turned opaque and the pupils dark contracted specks.  
  
Sam let the united pendant fall from his fingers to dangle on the chain. The light flared up into a fire that engulfed Sam in eerie flames. Only, it couldn’t have been fire because Sam didn’t burn up in it. Neither did Dean. Instead they stood together, hands clasped to each other’s arms as the flame spiralled out from Sam to caress Dean, then spread outwards to where James was standing.  
  
 _Too close, too close_ , Robbie realised, trying to make his leaden feet move, his voice to be more than a choked rasp so he could shout to James to _move_. But it was already too late. James, caught on the edge of the vortex, went down, screaming in pain. Something cold twisted deep inside Robbie and his voice finally loosened as he screamed out James’ name.  
  
As quickly as the consuming flames had appeared they were gone, leaving the faint smell of ozone in the air.  
  
Robbie blinked and realised he must have lost a few seconds because Dean was crouched next to James while Sam watched, silent and unmoving, his eyes still full of that strange light. Then Robbie’s legs unlocked and he stumbled towards James. Dean looked at him as he fell to his knees beside his friend.  
  
“What have you done to him!” Robbie demanded, feeling at James’ neck for a pulse. He breathed a sigh of relief when he found it, a bit unsteady but definitely present. His eyes were closed though and there were ugly red marks on his face and hands that looked like bad sunburn.  
  
“He got caught in the backdraft,” Dean said, sprinkling water on James’s face from the bottle he was holding. It seemed to be helping because James murmured then his eyes slitted open.  
  
“Hold steady, lad,” Robbie said, slipping an arm under his neck for support as Dean lifted the bottle to James’ lips. “You’ll be okay.” He hoped he was telling the truth.  
  
“What the bloody hell happened? What have you two done?” Robbie rounded on Dean once James had taken a few sips of water.  
  
Dean shrugged. “What we had to do,” he said. “For the talisman. We had one half and had to find the other. We knew you’d be able to help us, or rather James would, with his knowledge and his talents.”  
  
“So you used us … James, knowing what might or would happen when they were joined?”  
  
Dean looked away, gazing out across the dark cemetery. Robbie wasn’t sure what he was looking for or if he had found it by the time he turn back to Robbie.  
  
“Yes, the danger was there. But if Sam could control it then he would have the extra power he needs. Anything or anyone else was just … collateral damage.”  
  
Robbie looked at him as if he were insane. “Needs for what? What is he?”  
  
Dean just smiled and rose to his feet. He handed the bottle to Robbie then joined Sam.  
  
They stood together, an aura of something both beautiful and terrible reaching out, brushing against Robbie’ mind making him tremble and he was almost glad that Dean hadn’t answered him.  
  
“Come, Dean, we’re done here.” Sam said turning away. But Dean lingered for a moment.  
  
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I, we, didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt.” Surprisingly, Robbie believed him. Whether Sam hadn’t wanted to hurt anyone he wasn’t so sure, the almost inhuman look of cold malevolence on his face told a different story.  
  
He wrapped his arms around James and pulled him closer, watching as the two brothers disappeared into the fading gloom of night; Sam in the lead, Dean trailing behind. When he could no longer see them Robbie drew the mobile phone from his pocket and entered the emergency speed dial number. He didn’t need to say anything, the GPS would locate them and a team would be on its way by the time he’d rung off. What Innocent would want to do about the Winchesters he didn’t know, but he could guess she would be content to leave them, and whatever power Sam was meddling with, well alone. He could live with that.  
  
“What. Exactly.  Was that all about?” The words were hesitant, drawn out as if the speaker was having trouble forming them, but the tone was oh so familiar.  
  
“Ah, that I’m not sure,” Robbie said. “And I don’t think I really want to know.” He looked down and found a pair of bloodshot and slightly dazed eyes regarding him. “How bad is it, love?” he asked, anxiety taking over.  
  
James shifted slightly, testing limbs. “Feels like I’ve been hit by a large passenger-carrying motor vehicle,” he said. Then his startled eyes looked up at Robbie. “What did you just call me?”  
  
“You heard me. Any objections?”  
  
The smile he got was full on, not one of those half-a-smiles James usually graced people with. It was followed by a grimace at the stretch to cracked lips and burned cheeks. But it had been there nonetheless. It eased any doubts Robbie might have had.  
  
“Only that it’s taken so long.” James’ softly spoken words settled the matter.  
  
It was easy then, to lean down and brush his lips against the smiling mouth and feel it open slightly to the touch. He kept it brief, a gentle caress to ease the hurt of burns.  
  
“Rest now, help will be here soon,” he said, drawing back.  
  
James obediently closed his eyes. Robbie hugged him close, his hand resting on James’ chest, over his heart, the steady beat a reassurance as he settled down to wait for the cavalry to arrive.  
  
  
End


End file.
